


careful what you wish for

by lienche



Category: Rammstein
Genre: Light Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-18
Updated: 2016-06-18
Packaged: 2018-07-15 19:57:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7236331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lienche/pseuds/lienche
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was supposed to be funny but now it feels more like a bad joke. Damn Paul and his stupid bets.</p>
            </blockquote>





	careful what you wish for

It was supposed to be funny but now it feels more like a bad joke. Damn Paul and his stupid bets.

“No,” Oliver repeats. “No way.”

There are at least five hundred euros at stake. It’s not that Oliver is greedy for money, he just doesn’t like to lose. No one actually does.

“Come on, Ollie,” Schneider says enthusiastically, stepping closer to him. “If we do that, it will be our turn and we will make them… I don’t know yet but hell, we’ll rob them blind!”

Oliver looks at him from under his eyebrows. Schneider is drunk — they all are, of course, otherwise they wouldn’t be playing this game, — his hair is messy, there are stains of beer on his t-shirt and his smile is so pleading as if he is a five-year-old begging his parents to buy him a toy train. Oliver would buy him all the trains in the world if it could save him from this stupid challenge.

“No, Schneider,” Oliver shakes his head and opens his mouth again to add that some things are just not supposed to happen, not even for money, because — 

(everything will be even more complicated)

(it won’t mean anything)

(he wants it too much)

— well, just _because_ , but he never gets a chance.

Oliver has never understood how exactly it happens and why he still hasn’t built up resistance. It’s just one of them (Richard, for example) says “come on, what are you afraid of?”, and then another one (probably Paul) adds “stop being a pussy” and suddenly Oliver finds himself standing in the center of the room, looking straight into Schneider’s bright eyes. Their chests and faces are only inches apart as if they are about to fight, only that what they’re really about to do scares Oliver much more. Schneider grins at him and something twists painfully in Oliver’s guts.

“Be a man and kiss me,” Schneider commands. It sounds so inappropriate and weird that Oliver chuckles to his own surprise. Paul immediately bursts out laughing, spilling his beer on the carpet. 

“Oh god, Schneider, I’m gonna remember that one! Where do you only get those pick-up lines?”

“It’s probably the best one he has,” Till snorts, taking a long drag on his cigarette. Schneider kindly shows them all the middle finger without even looking back and as the others start laughing even louder, he leans a little closer and lowers his voice so that only Oliver can hear him.

“Come on,” he whispers. “We’d better do it before Paul remembers he has a camera. They probably won’t even remember it tomorrow.”

( _but what about me_ , Oliver wants to say)

( _I will_ )

“Just imagine I’m a beautiful girl or something.”

“Sure thing,” Oliver murmurs, grabs Schneider by the collar and kisses him.

There is no fucking chance Oliver can think of him as a girl: his lips are too chapped, his tongue is too demanding, he doesn’t smell sweet and his stubble feels rough against Oliver’s mouth. It’s not even a proper kiss —

(not the one Oliver hoped they would share one day)

— it’s more like fighting for dominance, though the others immediately start wolf-whistling and somebody even yells:

“Rhythm section is on fire!”

They are watching them, sure they are. Paul grins from ear to ear, Till rests his elbows on the table, not paying attention to his already dead cigarette, and watches them with calm curiosity, Flake seems to be looking somewhere through them and Richard stares intensely, without even blinking. Oliver feels his cheeks redden and finally closes his eyes. He feels dizzy and he’s pretty sure that his hands are trembling, but right now all he can do is just strengthen his grip on Schneider’s shirt and hold on. 

Schneider’s lips move against his own, leaving wet trails, and Oliver feels the aftertaste of cigarettes and whisky on his tongue. It’s messy, sloppy and drunk and so overwhelming that Oliver hardly manages to remind himself that it’s only a part of their stupid bet, nothing more. There’s nothing romantic about it, no sentiments and no foreplay. Schneider has always been quite a tough guy and the way he captures Oliver’s lips is aggressive and desperate. Oliver has little choice but to play along and so he does, violating Schneider’s mouth with his own and feeling almost intoxicated by the heavy scent of his skin.

That’s what it is — the game. Oliver has never wanted it to be like that.

(and yet, it’s so much better than he’s ever imagined)

On the impulse of the second Oliver slightly bites Schneider’s bottom lip — enough to feel, not enough to hurt, — and it feels like something between them shatters into pieces. Schneider shivers visibly and then relaxes immediately as if at a command. Oliver doesn’t even have time to think about it as Schneider places his hands on Oliver’s hips, shamelessly pulling him closer, and lets him take the lead. Suddenly their non-kissing turns into a caress, almost a tender one, and Schneider doesn’t fight anymore. He just melts against Oliver’s chest —

( _no, what are you doing_ )

— and gives in to him completely, caressing his hipbones through the fabric of his jeans, his long hair tickles Oliver’s neck, making him shudder at the sensation, and he’s just so —

( _please, don’t, it’s not supposed to be like that_ )

— warm and eager that Oliver nearly loses his mind but then…

( _not here)_

 _(not like this_ )

Schneider _moans_ softly into the kiss and that’s it for Oliver. A split second later he shoves Schneider off so that he nearly falls to the floor, yet manages to regain his balance. His mouth is wet, his eyes are darker than usual and he’s totally out of breath. Oliver is sure that he himself hardly looks better and desperately searches for words to defuse the tension. He has to say something, anything at all.

“You play drums way better than you kiss,” he blurts out the first thing that crosses his mind.

“I got hard,” Schneider answers bewilderedly and blinks. “A bit.”

“Holy shit, Schneider,” Flake grunts, making a wry face. “Couldn’t you at least keep it to yourself? Fucking congratulations!”

Oliver is so startled that he even forgets to fake a smile but nobody actually notices it — they’re all busy laughing their heads off. Paul falls down from his chair not being able to calm down, Richard chuckles with his head thrown back, Till’s laugh is deep and soft and even Flake can’t help but smile. Schneider’s shoulders are trembling with laughter as he wipes his swollen lips and meets Oliver’s gaze, winking at him cheerily.

(it’s nothing for him — Oliver can see it in his eyes)

(and it’s probably better this way)

The game goes on, but Oliver can’t shake off the feeling that he’s already lost it.

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be less angsty but then my hand slipped. Sorry, Ollie, I promise you and Schneider will be happy together in another story.  
> NB: English is not my native language, so there are probably mistakes. Please let me know if you find any!


End file.
